"Yes, perhaps quickly… Are you nervous?"
The Ghost hastily shook his head.
Kariél couldn't help but smile: "Don't worry, Ghost. There's nothing to worry about here. You're meeting your brothers, your father. If they're normal, there's nothing to worry about."
The Ghost blinked. Kariél's words almost convinced him, but he still decided to ask about the worst-case scenario: "And if they're not normal?"
"…"
Kariél rubbed the bridge of his nose and said tiredly: "Don't do that, Ghost."
"Okay," he muttered in response.
He obviously understood himself that he had asked a pointless and illogical question. But he couldn't help it, he just couldn't hold back.
"And also, from now on, I will call you Konrad Curze," Kariél said, jumping from roof to roof.
He chose the perfect moment to, as they say, strike while the iron is hot.
"Why? We're not sure yet that he's really my father?"
Konrad Curze asked the question, and his voice dissolved in the cold wind as he made another jump.
"He might be," Kariél replied.
"But he might not be!"
"Out of politeness, can I? Please, Ghost."
"Fine," Konrad Curze nodded reluctantly.
And they continued their journey outside the city. One after another, Kariél, as always, led.
His expression was calm. Theoretically, such a moment should have excited him, but he was frighteningly unperturbed.
Fifteen minutes later, they were outside the city.
…
"Horribly desolate."
Fulgrim's voice was full of obvious compassion. Rogal Dorn frowned – he didn't like his brother speaking in such a tone.
"A city is visible in the distance… as grim as from orbit."
Lorgar softly expressed his feelings: "I feel sorry for its inhabitants."
Ferrus Manus crouched down. The giant plunged his silver hands into the earth, hard as steel, and after a moment, pulled out a handful of decayed bones.
He examined them carefully and concluded:
"Mutants, but there are also ordinary people," he said calmly. "There are traces of animal teeth on the bones."
"Cannibals?" Rogal Dorn asked.
Fulgrim shook his head: "Please, Rogal, not now…"
"You know I have to," Rogal Dorn replied seriously. "Beast-cannibals must be completely destroyed."
"And where is Father?" Lorgar asked.
He wore black robes, a tome hung from his belt, and his golden skin glowed slightly. He did not participate in the brothers' argument; he was concerned about something else.
He was always concerned about this.
He looked hopefully at his brothers and asked again: "Does anyone know where Father is now?"
"I am here."
A majestic voice sounded behind them. Lorgar turned around instantly, so quickly that even Fulgrim was surprised.
"Father!" Lorgar exclaimed enthusiastically. "You came!"
"Father."
"Father!"
"Father."
The giant in golden armor nodded slightly in response to his sons' greetings. He said impassively: "I hope you are not displeased with my decision."
"Of course not!" Lorgar replied quickly. "To meet our brother, of course, we don't need to involve our legions!"
"We didn't bring many people anyway," Rogal Dorn said. "Besides, I also think it's right not to involve the legions in this."
"Really, Rogal?" Fulgrim asked with a smile.
"True," Rogal Dorn nodded at him. "I am not lying."
The smile on Fulgrim's face quickly faded. He sighed helplessly and looked at Ferrus. The latter, with his arms crossed behind his back, shook his head imperceptibly.
The giant in golden armor saw the reaction of each of his sons.
He did not condemn Fulgrim's attempt to lighten the mood, nor did he react to Rogal Dorn's impassivity. Lorgar's enthusiasm and Ferrus's restraint seemed to him manifestations of the same thing.
He did not smile and was not stern. There was nothing on his face.
He just stood there.
He stood calmly – and the darkness receded.
"They have arrived," the Emperor said.
As soon as he uttered these words, two shadows appeared from the darkness nearby.
One tall, the other of normal height, they walked side by side.
"It's him," Fulgrim whispered almost inaudibly. "Konrad Curze…"
For no reason, he was sure of it.
He was sure that the thin and tall giant in ragged clothes with a deathly pale face was their brother. And the other three silently agreed with him.
They looked at their new brother, absorbing every detail, every subtle reaction.
Rogal Dorn frowned again.
Lorgar pursed his lips as if about to sigh.
Ferrus Manus clenched his fists imperceptibly.
At that moment, a single thought arose in their different hearts.
"He really is still a child."
The shadows slowly approached, but the Emperor spoke first.
"Welcome, Kariél Lohars. Thank you for bringing my son."
One of the shadows replied to the Emperor in an unfamiliar sibilant language. The voice was calm – too calm for a mortal meeting the Emperor.
"Yes, you are right, I should have greeted him first. But I need to clarify something with you, Kariél Lohars, and it is very important."
The Lord of Mankind stepped forward and extended his right hand.
From Lorgar's position, he could only see the silhouette of his father. But this did not prevent him from understanding the meaning of the gesture, and a storm of complex emotions instantly flared up in his heart.
He looked at the shadow that stood motionless, and felt anger at its audacity.
"My father did not make you kneel, he thanked you, and even offered you his hand," he thought indignantly. "And what did you do? You dared to make him wait!"
His gaze drew the attention of the tall shadow. A hiss sounded. But the one called Kariél Lohars patted him on the shoulder, and he fell silent again.
Fulgrim looked at Rogal Dorn, who, without turning, quietly said: "Don't compare me to him."
"At a year and a half, you were learning."
The beautiful demigod chuckled softly: "And he at a year and a half is no different from you, right, Rogal? That mortal is lucky, he raised a Primarch."
Rogal Dorn let out a rare low sigh.
Ferrus looked away.
He didn't like Fulgrim's words about "luck." For no reason, he just didn't like them. But he didn't say anything about it.
He knew that Fulgrim had good intentions.
Fulgrim just loved to joke and laugh. In essence, it was innocent, like a child's game. But when a Primarch behaved like this, it gained special value.
Ferrus Manus was willing to tolerate these jokes and even appreciate them.
A hiss sounded again. The Emperor calmly lowered his hand. Lorgar sharply clenched his right fist, and the indignation in his eyes grew even stronger. But the Emperor paid no attention.
It wasn't that he didn't see, he knew, but he didn't react.
"Yes, we arrived by ship. Space travel is no longer a rarity in our time," the Emperor said in High Gothic.
The shadow, after a short silence, spoke again in a sibilant language, and at the same time, a cold blue light flashed in its eyes.
Fulgrim shuddered in surprise: "A psyker! No wonder he understands. And I thought he was doing it on purpose…"
"No, not on purpose," the shadow said in broken High Gothic. "I wouldn't be so rude."
He stood at some distance from the Primarchs. An ordinary mortal could not have heard Fulgrim's whisper so clearly.
But he heard.
"I apologize for my son," the Emperor said. "Kariél Lohars, your mastery of psychic powers is growing stronger."
Fulgrim blushed.
"So this power is called psychic?"
"You didn't know before?"
"No," the shadow replied.
His High Gothic became more fluent by the second, and the strong accent disappeared.
"But I still think you should talk to him first."
The Emperor slowly shook his head, turned to his sons, and said: "Go, meet your brother, talk, take a walk…"
"Father?" Lorgar asked confusedly. "A walk?"
Rogal Dorn saw the shadow in the distance pat their brother on the shoulder again, and he, a giant shorter than them, spoke in a very soft voice: "I… can show you the city."
He stood in the darkness and looked at them. The demigods felt the gaze of their unfamiliar brother – clear, devoid of any complex emotions.
Feeling this gaze, Fulgrim, still annoyed, immediately replied: "Okay, brother!"
He turned to Ferrus. The latter, as if anticipating, nodded in advance: "It would be impolite to refuse."
Rogal Dorn said nothing, only slowly walked forward. All the details of this conversation were still unexpected for him, but he wasn't going to express his opinion now.
He simply agreed with his father's decision, so much so that he even changed his gait so as not to look too threatening in the eyes of a mortal.
He knew too well what his appearance meant to mortals.
Fulgrim and Ferrus followed him. Only Lorgar remained in place. His skin glowed gold, but his face had a confused expression:
"Father?"
"Go," the Emperor said.
And Lorgar had no choice.
***
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